The Sorcerer's Touch

by Imogene Nix

  The grin faded as she moved in his direction, her long blue dress wrapping around her legs. “I understand your concerns. But you have to realize, for hundreds of years I’ve taken care of myself. I’ve been a warrior for long enough to be able to let down my guard.”

  “I know. It’s just…”

  “You have to go. I understand that, Daniel. We both have tasks to attend to. I need you to go attend to the burials and leave me to complete my work. Vincent will drive you there, wait with you, then you’ll return. Of all of us, you’re probably in the most danger.” She laid a light kiss on his cheek, and as much as he wanted to turn his face so she kissed his lips, he knew now wasn’t the time.

  He had a meeting with the undertaker to attend to his father’s interment and those of the other nestlings who’d lived at the estate.

  Vampires take care of their own, he’d been told, so he’d make sure they were memorialized appropriately. But, God, how he wished he could have handed this over to someone else. Someone who didn’t feel the weight of grief that pounded into his brain, turning it to a morass of sludge he fought to rise above.

  The trip was swift. Daniel chose to sit in the front seat with Vincent, uncomfortable with the partition between himself and the driver. Besides which, Vincent was fun most of the time. Today he was morose, like a lot of the vampires, no doubt thinking of the friends he’d lost.

  At the ceremony the night before, the bonfire had been difficult. Cressida had officiated, though she really wasn’t yet recovered.

  The attack on the house had set everyone on edge.

  “You good to do this, Dan?”

  He knew the driver was worried about him. The sense of not really being here was more than a little off-putting, but he guessed it was better than trying to tough it out while he lost the plot. Right now, he didn’t have the time for that.

  If Creedar attacked again, well, there would be more dead.

  Next time it could be Cressida, or Celina or… He shied away from those thoughts. Not now.

  “Yeah. But I could sure use a good friend to help me.”

  So Vincent locked the vehicle, setting the alerts the witches had placed on it, knowing that on their return it wouldn’t be some kind of vehicular grave.

  Entering the House of Restful Peace had Daniel shivering. The dead really weren’t something he’d spent a lot of time around, and a cold shiver of unease skittered up his spine.

  “Please take a seat, Mr…?” The funeral director looked as uncomfortable as Daniel was, leaving him thinking he might not have dealt with vampires or such large affairs before.

  “Just Daniel is fine. Look, I’m here to arrange—”

  “The funeral for your father. Can I get you a cup of tea?” The director stilled, turned pink and opened his mouth, no doubt to apologize at the gaffe of offering tea to a vampire.

  “It’s okay. Really. If we could…” He spread his hands, hoping to get this over and done with as soon as possible, and the man nodded.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He pulled out a pad and paper, wrote Daniel’s name at the top then started asking questions about his father. What age was he? Had he been a believer in the spiritual world? Daniel answered each and every one, thinking carefully before he spoke.

  “No. My father was a very…” He searched for the appropriate term. “He was very earthy.”

  The undertaker nodded and made a careful notation.

  “Will you be needing a priest for the others?”

  He stared at the director, feeling lost. “I…uh…”

  “It’s common for the Councilors to officiate in these circumstances.” Vincent’s murmur forcefully reminded Daniel that they had faced this kind of situation before.

  “And the date?”

  “Well, it would be best if we could have one large ceremony.”

  The man across the desk started. “Well, uh… As to that, I’m not sure we have enough caskets…”

  “Order more then. We can wait until you do.” For an instant a spear of anger surged.

  “It’s not really that simple. The cost alone…” He tugged off his glasses and a bubble of frustration popped inside Daniel.

  He stood, angry with him and the argument about money. “Do it!” He shook his head and subsided. “I apologize. It’s just…”

  Vincent spoke up. “The nests will cover whatever it costs. Please, arrange it.” Now that Vincent had spoken, he sat back, hating the lack of control he was experiencing.

  His detachment grew, as if he was there but not really as he scanned brochures of flowers and caskets. In the end, he chose a dark wood, walnut, the director said, with brass fittings and a white satin liner. Whatever specifications he had for his father would also be used for the others.

  Finally, he settled on sprays of lilies and a sea of cyclamens to be planted in memory of everyone who’d died.

  By the time he left the building, Daniel was sure the smell of death must have permeated every cell in his body.

  “Heading back now, Daniel?”

  He looked Vincent in the eye. “Yeah, I need to see Cressida.” She would make him feel whole again. Somehow, she just knew exactly what to do. The drive home was quick and by the time they’d pulled up outside the house he bounded from the vehicle.

  The sound of raised voices filled the entryway and he moved fast, ready to protect Cressida with every ounce of his being. He shoved open the doors, surprising everyone within.

  Eyes swiveled toward him. “What the hell is going on here?” His voice boomed and several goggled in his direction.

  “I’ve just informed them that someone is reporting to Creedar. I want to know who.”

  He stepped into the room, watching as several cringed away.

  Knowledge seeped into him—he could give her this. The magic jumped and jerked as if it urged him to use it. “I can make them tell you.”

  Cressida’s eyes opened wide as she absorbed the shock.

  “Can you? Really? Can you be sure it would be accurate, though?”

  He stopped for a moment, smiling. “Yeah.”

  “Then do it.”

  He read them. She could see it on his face as he strained and she worried the whole time about the effects of his actions. Her choices. Clearly they could feel the intrusion into their minds.

  Cressida watched them all. In the corner, Gervaise sharing in his chair, eyes wide while rivulets of sweat poured down his face. His gaze darted to and fro as if seeking who was probing.

  “It’s Gervaise. He doesn’t realize though… He thinks that we…that he will be raised up and the rest of us cast aside.”

  Cressida heard the disgust in Daniel’s thoughts and she shook her head. “How could he do this?”

  It was simple though.

  “He wants power.”

  Cressida stood. The movement was still slow and her body twinged but she was on the road to recovery. Better than most of the poor warriors whose bodies had been ashed that day.

  “Councilors, it’s true that someone who holds the sacred trust of the nests is a traitor.”

  Fear rose, sharp and acrid in her nostrils. She’d already told them that, but reinforced her words with the anger that roiled in her gut. “Oh yes, someone here has sold us out. To Creedar. They want power and position. And we have the power to know who it is.” She glanced at him, imbuing knowledge in her words and glance.

  Gervaise slid farther down in his seat.

  “Who? What? Gervaise? Surely you wouldn’t do that?”

  “How could you? We took an oath!”

  The voices babbled accusations and Gervaise paled, cowering away from the anger that built in the room.

  “I… He… I was bewitched!” Gervaise’s screech took on a pleading tone. “It’s not my fault. He made me do it!”

  “But that’s not true, Councilor.” Daniel strode forward, his face a mask of fury. “You went to him. You approached Creedar, back before the Slaughterhouse Rout. It was you all alon
g!”

  When Daniel would have engaged the man, Cressida held him back. “No, Daniel. That is not our way.”

  She turned back to the others gathered around the table. More than one showed the need for blood on their faces.

  The time-honored tradition of De Premiere Instance de la Justice would be enacted.

  “Friends, you know how we deal with traitors. He must be given the chance to prove himself at trial. Guards!”

  Samra and two others, who’d been guarding the doorway, entered the room, their eyes wide as they took in the scene.

  “Take Councilor Gervaise into custody. Make sure to use the cuffs, Samra. Note the number in the Book of Justice.”

  Samra bowed without a word and indicated to the men, who moved into position.

  “No! Don’t do this! I’ll make reparation! I will repent!” He struggled against their hold as they dragged him from the room and Cressida let go of the breath she’d held. The exhalation seemed to deflate her and she dropped to her seat.

  “Councilors?”

  “You had no choice, Cressida. He has to pay. Tell us when you wish to convene and we will be here. The Trial of Justice must be enacted and swiftly.”

  She nodded.

  “But before we leave. You had Daniel scan him and all of us, didn’t you?”

  “Yes. It was the only way.”

  The Councilor inclined his head. “Then I have another question. Why at the time of the attack on the nest didn’t Daniel just…” He waved his hand in the air and Cressida’s heart nearly stopped.

  “I…” There really wasn’t an answer, not unless he could somehow explain it for himself. She glanced at him, beseeching him to give an account.

  “I didn’t, because it didn’t occur to me. I was focused on finding my father. Then Cressida was hurt. I’m not even sure I could have stopped it. I don’t know how finite my powers are.” The question had stunned and hurt Daniel.

  “I think that is something that needs to be investigated then. With all due respect, if Daniel is as strong as you give the impression he is, there must be some way we can protect those within the walls of any given house by using his skills.”

  Cressida nodded, gnawing at her lip. Celina had used the protection stone before, so surely there was some way Daniel could reinforce the nest using the same power? Then they could…

  Too many. Too big. Could he even manage it?

  “We’ll reconvene tomorrow night at ten. I thank you for your attendance.” She dismissed them. Now was the time to consider all the angles and prepare for the trial and possible subsequent replacement of Gervaise.

  If they could survive the rest of the night, that was.

  One by one the Councilors stood and trooped through the door, a quiet bunch of elder vampires.

  Then the room was silent, with only Cressida and Daniel present. “I messed up, didn’t I?” His lost tone tore at her.

  Chapter Ten

  Daniel rose quietly. Cressida remained asleep, and he felt gratitude that the fates had been kind enough to give him time alone. Time to think over the mess he’d made of the situation.

  He padded across the room, his feet clad in slippers, and scooped up the dressing gown that lay across the boudoir chair next to Cressida’s side of the bed. Had his actions put all this in jeopardy?

  The thoughts played in his mind and he carefully crept to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty and he headed downstairs to the kitchen, where the cook stood at the big stove, stirring something. His stomach gurgled and he shrugged, reaching for the fridge.

  “Master Daniel, can I get you a warm blood wine?” Dorothy’s voice startled him and he jumped. He’d been sure she didn’t know he was there.

  “How did you…?”

  “Well, let’s just say it’s all in your scent.” She grinned, and for the first time he noted how long and sharp her teeth looked when she spoke. They were longer than any other vampire he knew.

  Could she be…? His mind stuttered at the thought that she could be neither human nor vamp. Was she a were? “So you’re also not human?”

  “Didn’t your mama ever tell you it was rude to ask such questions?” she bantered playfully, but there was the hint of a bite beneath the surface. “No, I’m not human. I’m not a changer either. Like those girls, I’m were. There’re a few of us, well hidden in the nests, just like nymphs and djinn. Now go away. I’m making goulash for the nestlings.”

  In his mind rolled a million questions, but one defining fact kept rising to the top. There were more kinds of paranormals than he’d ever expected.

  Numbly he opened the fridge door, looking for a bottle of blood wine, and spied instead a blood shake. The label caught his eye. Maison de Sang.

  He laughed, his shoulders shaking, as he stood in front of the wide open door.

  “Shut that damned door, before I make you, fang boy.” Even Dorothy’s terse comment couldn’t stop him.

  She stalked over, her long red hair tied back in an intricate braid, and slammed it, sealing the cold goods inside.

  Tears ran down his face as he considered that his father would never know that the role he’d taken on—Yeux Secondes—had brought this beverage and the growth of his previous nest to near completion.

  “Daniel?” Cressida was there. Somehow she’d found him when he needed her the most. Now he cried, uncaring that anyone was watching.

  “He’ll never know.”

  “No, he won’t. But what he will know is that you cared enough to be there, to try to save him. He’ll know you loved him.” It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do, because he couldn’t change the past.

  The wave of grief blindsided him, left him lost. How? He’d held himself so tightly! Cressida stepped up to him.

  “It was going to happen. It had to. You can’t dam it up inside and think it won’t escape. You have to grieve and accept that he’s passed or you’ll go mad.”

  Cressida wound her arms around his middle, her embrace telling him it was okay to cry. To express the feelings that welled.

  How long they stood there he couldn’t say, but finally the jagged emotions seeped away, leaving him hollow and tired. “I need…”

  “I’ll get you the blood wine. Go sit in the drawing room.” She shooed him out with soft touches and he let her. He needed to be alone to think over his emotions. The cabinet was closed, but on a whim he opened it and turned on the television for the first time since his change.

  The news reporter looked grim as he reported on the investigation in the house of Grimardi massacre.

  “Sources have informed us that the massacre was linked to the current vampire war. The Creedar faction instigated the attack, which left an entire nest dead, Frances.”

  “Thanks, Martin. We cross now to Elizabeth on the ground at the governor’s mansion where tonight a candlelight vigil is being held. I see there are also protesters. Elizabeth, what can you tell us about that?”

  “Well, Frances, Governor Sorvein has been meeting with officials from the Vampires Banishment League today. They are asking for the governor to overturn the Human Nestling Act of 2045, which allows vampires to have human nestlings living and working in their houses. They recommend that vampires should live only in specified locations, far enough removed from human habitation that it poses no threat to human society. They also contend that vampires should be restricted in ownership of properties, including residential complexes, economically important businesses and those which are medically related.”

  “Will they be successful, do you think, Elizabeth?”

  “I’m not sure anyone knows the answer to that at this stage, Frances. What I do know is that if the vampires are forced to relinquish these investments, then the price of these entities will drop, based on information I have received from the Realtors Association.”

  The camera panned the crowd and he saw hundreds of protestors carrying placards. He’d seen it before, but never on this level. The numbers looked to be equal to those
involved in the vigil. His stomach knotted again.

  “They don’t understand. If we remove our protection, then the humans will be in even greater danger.”

  Cressida took the seat beside him and he noted the lines on her face. “How do you deal with that? What they’re saying is absurd and dangerous.”

  She shrugged slowly. “Because it’s the price of coming out to the public. We will do what’s needed, to protect our own.”

  “Is there really that much anger against us?” He turned his head to look her squarely in the eye.

  “Yeah, there is.”

  She handed him a goblet and he drank deeply.

  “So what do we do?”

  “We find and beat Creedar. But before we do, there is some emergency damage control to be undertaken.”

  “What do you mean, Cressida?” He had more than an inkling he wouldn’t like what she was about to say.

  “I need to meet with the governor and this Vampire Banishment League. See if I can’t buy us some time.”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “No. This is something the head of the Council does. It’s not up to you to think about it or not. It’s my role.” She touched her hand to his and the chill of her skin scared him, left his insides quivering and turning.

  “Cressida, I don’t want to lose you.” He didn’t want to give in to the fear that dogged him, but he also needed to make sure that she understood how deeply his emotions were involved. He’d not really had a chance to tell his father, and he bitterly regretted that. He wouldn’t fail with her.

  “You won’t. I’ll have Samra and a contingent of guards at my side the whole time. What could go wrong? Now drink your blood wine so I can dress.”

  “You already knew about this?” Disbelief colored his words.

  “I did. I have to know what people are saying so I can take action quickly. That’s what the head of my house and my Yeux Secondes does. You are no longer human, and no longer hold that title, but you understand the way the position works.”

  He did, of course, but it didn’t make it easier to bear. “When?”